This Time Around
by Sunfreak
Summary: A clairvoyant detective and his skeptical partner embark on a most unusual series of cases, including a search for the God of Death and their own long-lost soulmates. Yaoi; reincarnation fic.
1. Lover's Requiem

A/N: This is an idea that struck me rather suddenly when I was looking through some pictures I have (meaning other people's fanart I picked up somewhere over the last year). So, from a pic of Wufei in an OZ uniform, a picture of Heero as an angel with far too much blood in it, and some mushy fluffy ones came the beginnings of this story. Should be angsty, romantic, and hopefully a little bit funny.  
  
Pairings are a secret! ^_~ POV is Quatre. Sorta, anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Lover's Requiem"  
  
  
  
  
  
I am so sick of living this solitary life, again and again and again. Where are you, darling? I know I can't remember you as you were; not really and truly, but if we met again, I'd know your face, your voice, your perfect body. They already tickle at the edges of my memory like a lover's breath; so close and so painfully sweet, yet never, never enough.  
  
I have to find you, else I'll die again and have to start over once more in my so-long search. I worry about the timing now- it's been so long; we could be out of sync in the cycle. What if I find you, but I am too old for you? Or worse, what if I am too young, and you don't want me?  
  
I'd kill myself. I swear to God, if you didn't want me for ANY reason, I'd kill myself.  
  
Was I always so sad? So weak and lonely? Or was I even worse, once upon a time? I don't really recall. I only know as much as I do because of . . . I forget why I know so much, actually. Surely there's some reason.  
  
Why can't I think of the reason?  
  
Oh, my beloved . . .  
  
I want to see you again, so I can find out who you are.  
  
  
  
  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
  
  
  
  
. : review or omae o korosu! : . 


	2. Sympathy For The Devil

A/N: They're not my boys, but I won't tell if you don't. ^_~ This is being posted quite quickly because the prologue was, as we all know, cruelly brief and cryptic. Typical updates will take somewhat longer, I'm afraid. But you'll still read it, right? *bats her eyes and pretends not to have Heero's gun behind her back* Riiight?  
  
Pairings are a secret! POV is Quatre.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sympathy For the Devil"  
  
  
  
  
  
My name is Quatre. I don't give out my last name, because I don't like it. Actually, I don't like my first name either. "Quatre", to be honest, isn't even my name at all. I like it though, so I tell people that it is.  
  
Something about hearing that name . . . is so soothing.  
  
I am a psychic detective. That means that I believe in spooks and empaths and get no respect from the police or even any other private investigators when I am on a case, supernatural-related or not. Well, from Yuu maybe, but his is a grudging respect only and he doesn't believe in my more mystical theories. He is something like my partner, but he acts more like a freelancer who's just dropped by for assistance on one case.  
  
He's also got commitment issues- meaning that he has to make them. No one-night stands for the Boy Wonder, which seriously cuts down on happy hour at the office. If he were anyone else, I'd just jump him, but though I swear I'll never know how, Yuu somehow manages to keep a fully loaded automatic weapon in his tighter-than-a-chastity-belt leather pants. And I'm talking the kind that needs a license and background check, mind.  
  
I take a drag of my cigarette and mentally tap another nail into the coffin as Yuu glares at me in his one special way and waves the clinging smoke away from his face like a bad memory. Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."  
  
Although, I intend to find MY Lenore.  
  
"You're the most intelligent idiot I know, koibito," he mutters. 'Koibito'- I assume it's Japanese, since he is, but I've never asked what it meant. Not sure I want to know, to be honest.  
  
"Let me have my vices," I protest with a chuckle, and Yuu slips off the desk and kisses my cheek before he leaves- not the mouth though. Never the mouth, because he hates the taste of tobacco with a passion. I smoke so much partially because I know we're likely to fall in together if I'm not careful. If I really wanted him, I'd suck hard candy instead. He likes peppermint the best, but any flavor does it. And no, he didn't tell me that (Yuu never tells anyone a thing about himself); I am just naturally this observant and clever and sexy to boot.  
  
Plus, my astonishing deduction was backed up when, once at Christmas, I choked down a candy cane that the kids upstairs gave me, and the two of us wound up on the desk, messing up all my nice clean paperwork and rather enjoying ourselves. Then, being as brilliantly stupid as I could, I idly asked him if he thought I'd look good with long hair.  
  
He was out of there so fast that my head's still spinning.  
  
Subtle I am not, but I might've been a few lifetimes ago. And a few lifetimes ago, there was a very beautiful person with long hair who was in love with Yuu. No reason to betray your soulmate before you meet them, is there?  
  
I wonder what Yuu's soulmate looks like now.  
  
And I miss mine, now that I think of it again. My darling . . . My "Lenore." When did I see you last? It has been so many lifetimes since I was with you. Did I ever even share a bed with you at all? Sometimes I'm not so sure, though I think I might recall darkly tanned hands ghosting over my own slightly lighter tan- or perhaps it was pale then.  
  
Such beautiful hands . . . did they ever get anywhere? Oh, I hope so. Perhaps someday I'll recall.  
  
Perhaps someday I'll find them again.  
  
Caw, caw. "Nevermore."  
  
. . . Always did hate that poem.  
  
I throw my head back and breathe in deep, and the smoke tickles my throat. I have the strange urge to play my violin. I can't, though. I've owned the thing since I was fifteen, and never learned a note. I keep it purely for aesthetic purposes. It makes me smile, and not enough things do that.  
  
Yuu does, and the violin, and the vague "memory" of my unmet soulmate. But those things can also bring me great sorrow. When I see how brightly Yuu can shine in those rare moments that he is completely happy, I am forever reminded of how bright they say Lucifer was before he fell. I wonder, is he still so bright? Does he light Hell with his glory? Or is he dark now, and burnt and broken and lonely like us?  
  
I hope not. No one deserves this eternal suffering that Yuu and I must withstand. Even if he denies it with his voice, I hear his heart singing with hope every time he meets someone who might be his lost soulmate. I hear his pain each time he loses them as well. I think I knew him once before this life. Or perhaps I knew him many times; I can't be certain.  
  
My carefully gathered thoughts shatter as the door bangs open, and a young woman with long, dark hair marches in, loud high heels clacking on the floor. My first impression is of fishnets, a smirk, and dull black leather- the second an internal meow as I realize that this is no girl, but a boy. I have no concrete gender preferences, but pretty boys are a definite favorite.  
  
I'd assume he was seventeen (being generous, mind you, which I always am in regards to such lovely things), and judging by his less-than typical attire, lacking certain hormones- or perhaps with a few too many. I've gotten good at telling the difference between men and women with all the primped-up peacocks chasing Yuu into my office, but he's a hard one to spot. After all, it took me a full three seconds to recognize him as male, and anyone who takes more than one is good indeed.  
  
"Hey," the leather-clad boy greets, giving a wave and giggling at me as he tosses his plaited ponytail over one shoulder. "'Sup, dude?"  
  
Ew. I think all my attraction for this person has just gone straight to pot.  
  
I scowl and go to grind out my cigarette in a gesture of annoyance, but the boy stops me by catching my hand with both of his and taking it into his mouth instead, giving me a heavy- lidded look from underneath his bangs and the heavy liner around his eyes. I notice that his tongue also "accidentally" finds its way outside of his mouth just long enough to give my fingers a good teasing.  
  
Perhaps I spoke too soon.  
  
"Sorry, but I really need a smoke, ya know?" he says with a sly grin, taking over possession of my half-gone coffin nail and crawling up on my desk, putting his feet up on the arms of my chair and quite deliberately spreading his miniskirt-clad legs. Definitely spoke too soon, even if he is underage.  
  
"Did you need something?" I inquire politely, idly wondering how this boy would look in my boxers. Or nothing.  
  
"Lots of things," he tells me, his mouth close enough to blow smoke into mine. He smells like peppermint under the tobacco. How amusing. "But mostly, I need to find God."  
  
"Really?" I raise an eyebrow at that. "Shall I assume that you don't mean this literally, Mr. . . . ?"  
  
"Name's Binary," he says with a wide smile. "Binary Pinto, actually, but if ya call me 'Mr. Pinto' I'll shoot myself. Or you; depending on my mood."  
  
"Whatever." I wave him off, internally cringing at my regression into such high school-ish terms. This kid is downright infectious.  
  
"Well . . . " Binary takes another drag and bats his eyelashes at me.  
  
And I would not be surprised if he were addictive, too. Somebody should stick a Surgeon General's Warning on the brat. 'Caution: Do not look directly into pretty peacock's eyes, or dizziness and inappropriate thoughts may ensue.'  
  
"What I need is to find God," he repeats, crossing his legs (to my private disappointment) and ditching my cancer stick in the ashtray (to my less-private disappointment). That was my last one. Damn.  
  
As I look mournfully at my cigarette's remains, the pretty bastard boy pulls another one and silver lighter out of his purse (Lord knows WHY he carries a purse). I'm tempted to kill him, all sexiness aside.  
  
"We're not actually talking the typical version of God here- I don't think too much of him anyway," Binary continues. "I just want to find the God of Death. I have a few questions for him, you see."  
  
" 'The God of Death'?" I repeat, blinking slightly as that annoying sixth sense starts to tingle. This does not sound like a normal case at all. Yuu is definitely going to be pissed. I am twenty-two years old, and have yet to escape Dreamland. He is twenty-one and acts like he's in his late fifties.  
  
"Shinigami, to certain circles," Binary clarifies with a slow grin.  
  
"That's Japanese, isn't it?" I muse aloud, automatically getting to my feet and heading for my library (okay, my rickety bookshelf).  
  
"Yup," he confirms, and I pull out one of my more dog-eared texts. Yuu is Japanese (in blood at least), and he likes reading it. My grasp of the language's pronunciation is not so great, but I can read it rather well for an English-speaking affluent, though I STILL don't know what "koibito" means.  
  
Hm . . . I suppose that I am technically a "former" affluent now, since I ran off and tried to make it on my own. For some reason I was born sick of wealth.  
  
Now, back to the topic du jour. My Japanese vocabulary is somewhat basic, I'm afraid, and whenever I speak so much as a word of the thing, Yuu accuses me of bastardizing his "homeland's" dialect (the man was born in fucking NEW JERSEY, for God's sake) nines times out of ten. Not my problem, mind you. Well, yes it is, actually. Really, I speak more languages than most people have even heard of; yet that idiot still can't forgive me for using the incorrect form of "I" ONCE- and this was after being chased by no less than three different assassins, getting shot twice, and nearly drowning on top of it all, all in less than two hours time.  
  
God, but I hate my job some days.  
  
Eh, screw it- I'm gonna seduce the damned pretty boy and work out some stress. I quickly read the definition of "Shinigami" (in a nutshell: god of death; takes souls to the afterlife, big whoop), then return it to something within a shelf or four of its correct place and give the boy my best sultry pout.  
  
"So, how will you be paying?" I ask innocently. "Cash, check, or . . . " I run my fingers down his torso and stop, hooking my thumbs in his skirt's waistband. "Kissing?" Not one of my better lines, but whatever works. And he's still a kid, slut look aside- my good lines would probably scorch his ears off.  
  
Curiously, the boy actually seems surprised. After the way he's been slinking around like a prostitute for the past ten minutes, you'd think he'd be more receptive to my advances, but he suddenly looks almost nervous.  
  
"Um, cash, I think," Binary says weakly, suddenly shutting his legs and slipping off the desk. "That okay?"  
  
"This is easier," I murmur, stepping around the desk and using the four inches of height I have on him to their full advantage. "Don't you think?"  
  
"No!" he yells, and suddenly seems honestly afraid of me even as anger flashes in his eyes. "You can't touch me! Not ever!"  
  
I stop in surprise and wonder something. "Binary," I begin slowly. "Exactly what DO you want to ask Shinigami?"  
  
"I . . . I have to know why it left me alone," he says, slightly hoarsely, as he lowers his eyes. "I need to know why it took my family away and left me alone with . . . with . . ."  
  
I don't need to know more- I don't WANT to, really.  
  
"I'm sorry," I say, stepping back respectfully. "I didn't mean to intrude."  
  
"I . . . I apologize too," he replies quickly, looking away and tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear. "I shouldn't have gotten so pissed at ya." He glances up and gives me a guilty look. "If you want, I'll kiss you anyway."  
  
"I have no problems with that," I say in my best "you-are-SO- gonna-get-laid-tonight" voice, leaning over towards him again. Then, to my incredibly unfortunate misfortune, Yuu of the piercing blue eyes slinks back into the office.  
  
"Oi, Quat-chan, have you seen my keys?" he asks curiously, then blinks in surprise at the sight of me propositioning the pretty young thing by the desk. "Oh- sorry, koibito; I didn't know you were expecting anyone."  
  
"Ohhh," Binary whispers in awe, his eyes widening with appreciation and glazing over. I sigh and roll my own. And yet ANOTHER perfectly good paramour has been lost to the great Yuu- sama's gorgeous eyes and sinfully tight pants. I really have to stop seducing people in the office, or I'll never get laid again.  
  
"Binary, this is Yuu," I introduce. "Yuu, Binary Pinto. New client; wants to find Shinigami."  
  
"As in the God of Death?" Yuu raises an eyebrow at me. "You do attract the odd ones, koi."  
  
"Don't mind him; I just keep the guy around 'cause he's a sexy bastard. You know, like office furniture," I inform Binary bluntly. He ignores me in favor of drooling over said sexy bastard. Oh for crying out loud . . . This is my office; therefore, logically speaking, only I should score here. Damn Yuu and his liquid sex appeal.  
  
Well, no, I actually quite like his liquid sex appeal- I just like it better when it's only focused in MY direction.  
  
At least Yuu doesn't seem overly interested in our pretty new peacock, so I still have a vague chance to score. He was never one for really blatant people, much less those who believe in the arcane, and Binary is nothing but these things.  
  
"Hello, sir," Binary says softly, fluttering false lashes over wide, innocent eyes. Yuu, being Yuu, doesn't fall for it for a moment.  
  
"Hn," he answers distractedly, already stepping past him to reach for the previously mentioned keys, which are, curiously enough, hanging out of MY jacket pocket.  
  
Oh, wait- this is his jacket.  
  
Well, that explains a bit. Like why I actually had enough money for coffee AND cigarettes today. Note to self: you owe Yuu five bucks, and Binary owes YOU at least that much in kisses . . .  
  
Binary pouts a bit but still finds time to give Yuu's ass an appreciative glance. Well, more like a detailed inspection and cataloguing.  
  
. . . preferably to be collected before he runs off after your partner.  
  
  
  
  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
  
  
  
  
. : review or die! : . 


	3. Toy Gun

A/N: Mm, I LOVE writing for this story! ^__^ It's damn good fun.  
  
Still Quatre's POV. Still not telling you the pairings. See, THIS way, I can get y'all hooked even if you hate the pairings! ^_^ My evil plan is revealed! Mwahaha!  
  
  
  
  
  
"Toy Gun"  
  
  
  
  
  
I wake up slowly, feeling a vague throbbing behind my eyes and a heavy weight in my lap. Unfortunately, it's not anyone, just a . . .  
  
Pretty Chinese girl.  
  
Okay, that WOULD be someone.  
  
"Good morning," I say dryly, lowering my legs from the desktop and pulling her to my chest so she won't fall. Oh crap, I think I'M going to fall over now. Agh, hangover's a bitch. Maybe I should go Muslim; I've heard they don't drink. Naw- I can't picture myself drinking grape juice while everybody else has vodka. Hell, I can't picture myself as anything BUT a lush.  
  
Ouch. Skull splitting; not a good sign. Maybe they have the right idea after all . . .  
  
"Hey, Quatre!" Pretty Chinese Girl greets me.  
  
"Hello, Ailin," I reply. "Might I inquire as to the origin of this dubiously pleasant intrusion?"  
  
"That idiot Hao was picking on me." She scowls and folds her arms, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder.  
  
"Who?" I raise an eyebrow at her. Ailin is one of the previously mentioned "kids upstairs" (despite being fifteen already, which is really not so young as it used to be) whom enjoys stuffing candy in my trenchcoat pockets at random intervals and has been personally responsible for no less than seven make-out sessions with Yuu over the years (and those happen FAR too often as it is).  
  
"Hao," Ailin makes a face, "is the new boy in 7D. He's lame; can you tell Yuu to make him leave me alone?" Translation: 'he's really fucking cute but I don't know how to make him notice me; please HELP me, oh mighty Quatre-sama, holiest God of Sex!'  
  
"Eh, why not." I shrug and our sexy new client Binary Pinto comes in from upstairs, wearing Yuu's T-shirt (and ONLY that, mind), yawning, and with his hair all wet and mussed. Fresh from the shower, and I bet he had company. Damn Yuu.  
  
Then said damn Yuu inexplicably emerges from my closet with a gun, in the literal sense this time. Not that Yuu was ever IN the closet to begin with. Okay, so he doesn't date much, but the man's clearly gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide- I'd swear it on a stack of Bibles.  
  
Satanic Bibles, mind. I don't fancy being struck down by God- sent blue lightning. Ah, the joys of religion- these are problems that the atheists just don't get to have.  
  
"Feed me," Binary whines with a sexy pout.  
  
"What are you even still DOING here? And where the hell did you get that shirt?" Yuu asks sourly, making a point of polishing his gun in a very threatening way. Romance is truly dead. No wonder the guy never gets laid.  
  
"I'm hungryyy . . . " Binary whines, completely ignoring him for once- a tried and true method for dealing with those annoying people who don't want to get into your pants.  
  
"Hey, Ai." Yuu returns the favor and ruffles Ailin's hair.  
  
"Yo," she answers. "Will you shoot the new guy for me?"  
  
"Depends," Yuu replies in perfect sincerity. "Is he hot?"  
  
Ailin turns a remarkably brilliant shade of pink. "No," she says. Translation: 'SO fucking hot, but he's mine, damn you, mine!' Note to self: check new boy's age and sexiness factor. If he's legal and worth it, try to steal him from Ailin.  
  
Then the office door swings open to reveal yet another fine and upstanding example of a pretty boy, though this one looks far less inviting than Binary. The leather HE'S wearing just screams "punk!", and not in the music-related sense.  
  
"Excuse me," he says calmly, slamming the door shut and throwing his weight back against it just as there is a louder slam from outside. God, my HEAD . . . He's Chinese, maybe fifteen or sixteen (damn, too young for me- then again, so is Binary), and his hair is black- inky and liquid-thin, and also looking like it used to be pulled back into a tight ponytail. Right now though, he's sweating and breathing heavily, and most of it's dripping in his eyes.  
  
Mm. Heh heh.  
  
Okay, Quatre, focusing NOW, please. Stupid hormones; aren't they supposed to die down after your teens? At least SLIGHTLY?  
  
"Hao!" Ailin yelps in surprise (my HEAD, people!) and jumps out of my lap. "What are you doing?!"  
  
"Morning, pigtails," he greets her with a quick wave. "Uh, can we maybe talk later?" There's another slam from outside, and the door shakes in its frame.  
  
Yuu snorts in annoyance and cocks his gun, quite calmly emptying it in the doorframe as a warning.  
  
"Fuck off or die!" I yell at our unseen assailants, giving the door a good kick for emphasis.  
  
Looking horrified, Hao instantly dives under the desk, dragging Ailin down beneath him, and I get the sinking feeling that he knows something we don't- along with a tingly feeling that tells me I really don't WANT to know it.  
  
"Down!" I shout, and even if he doesn't believe in my sixth sense, Yuu is a soldier born and bred, and follows my orders instinctively. And while Binary's no soldier, he's apparently got a great survival instinct and is behind the filing cabinet before I even properly finish the word.  
  
However, the only thing I myself have time to do is take one step, and then the bullets start flying.  
  
Well, at least my hangover's gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
  
  
  
  
. : review or the bishounen gets it! : . 


	4. Here Comes A Candle

A/N: "Here Comes A Candle" is a real nursery rhyme, and thusly not mine- just so you all know. I don't write disturbing children's literature, just disturbing fanfiction.  
  
By the way- I honestly have no idea whether Chang is Wufei's first name or last, and I've been researching it and seen it written both ways. So for the purpose of this fic, he'll be Wufei Chang until someone can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt whether I'm misinformed or not.  
  
Quatre's POV. Don't give me that "duh" look!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Here Comes A Candle"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I don't count the rounds, I just move as fast as humanly possible to stay ahead of them. My sixth sense is screaming in the back of my head, and it's all I can do to calm down enough to find . . .  
  
There it is. My zone; the place where I'm alive, where the adrenaline takes me and makes me over as invincible. I'm hardly ever here, but when I am . . .  
  
The door splits under the barrage of bullets, and I race out through the pieces, duck under the gun of the nearest idiot, and break his nose with the heel of my palm. He falls back with a cry of pain, and the unscathed two just stare at me in disbelief.  
  
"Come and get me!" I shout. "I'm looking for the God of Death anyway, and I'd be glad for the bait!"  
  
"The hell?!" the injured leader chokes. "You're not Ma Hao!"  
  
"Oh? Such a shame, such a shame." I give them my usual battle grin- wild-eyed and disjointed, head lolling off a limp neck. I know it scares them, because I've practiced it for years and it takes someone a lot bigger than a few hired thugs with cheap pistols not to be. "Would you like to play anyway?"  
  
"Where the fuck is he?!" the leader snarls with false bravado. Behind me, there's a small whimper from Ailin and the quick click of Yuu reloading. I ignore the question.  
  
"Here comes a candle, to light your way to bed . . . and here comes a chopper to chop off your head," I sing-song softly, feeling my eyes dance with mirth as I reach back into the office and pull the fire ax off the wall. I love to fight. Killing, no, but fighting- it's the greatest and cheapest buzz that you can get. And there's nothing like risking your neck over something that you don't even understand.  
  
Especially if you get to scare the shit out of people while you're at it.  
  
I give the ax an experimental swing with one hand, sniggering as I see the back-up goons pale. "Here comes a candle . . . " I begin again, voice softer than ever and grin twice as wide. "To light your way to bed . . ."  
  
One of them squeaks in dismay and nearly drops his pistol. God, this is such a power trip.  
  
"And here comes a chopper to chop off your HEAD!" I yell, and swing out with the ax. The leader fires, Ailin and the squeaky goon scream, and Yuu yells my name.  
  
I can't stop laughing.  
  
The leader is trembling, clutching what remains of his hand to his chest, and I can taste the blood where it's splattered on my face. It's coppery and bittersweet, like fire and death.  
  
"Next?" I inquire brightly, letting the ax swing idly from my hand. Blood drips off it and leave thin red arcs on the floor. Good thing it's tile and not carpeted- the landlord's gonna be pissed enough about the door as it is.  
  
The leader is bleeding heavily and his partners don't seem inclined to be of help, so, disgusted, he limps away with them trailing after nervously. Cowards, but not stupid. I'm disappointed, though- I wanted a real fight.  
  
"So . . . " I give the bullet-riddled interior of my office a dazzling smile. "Mr. Ma, I presume?"  
  
Hao slowly straightens up from behind the desk, still slightly winded from running. "That'd be me," he says hoarsely.  
  
"Ailin, honey, you have the weirdest friends," I chuckle, and the others fall out of the woodwork. Yuu's shoulder is bleeding like a stuck pig. He has this weird tendency to get shot without bothering to mention it. So much for keeping the carpets clean, though this at least explains why he never came out to back me up. Guy's got a hell of a pain tolerance, but the wound would've still slowed him down.  
  
Binary and Ailin are both uninjured, though Ai looks a bit shaken. I catch Hao glancing towards her worriedly. Looks like those feelings are mutual, then. Ailin's parents are going to be very, very pissed off (especially if all of Hao's 'friends' are as friendly as this).  
  
"What just happened here?!" Binary demands, and I get the feeling he's more upset than he'd care to admit.  
  
"Well," I begin in my most annoying teacher-voice, "first, the guys outside started shooting and broke my nice door, and-"  
  
"Koi, now's not the time for your jokes," Yuu says wearily, finally putting his gun "away" (read: in his waistband, which is hardly a safe place in an apartment building full of children but is at least better than an old shoebox in the closet).  
  
I sigh grudgingly but switch into "investigator-mode." "They were after you," I say bluntly to Hao. "Why?"  
  
Hao looks pained, but I doubt he'll start anything in front of Ailin. Sure enough, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, tissue-wrapped package, maybe six or seven inches tall. "I stole this from them," he says simply.  
  
I take it from him, and I can feel the love he has for this object as clearly as I can feel the drafts coming in our newly broken windows. I rip it open and a small, meticulously carved jade statuette falls out into my hand. It's of an Asian woman in a bridal outfit, and I have to admit that she is truly beautiful. Not in the flawless, idealized way that the Greeks defined beauty, but in her defiant expression, her stubborn posture, and what little I can see of her soul. I can tell- she doesn't want to be wed, but it's her duty so she's doing it. And maybe she doesn't like her husband, but she doesn't really hate him either. The emotions of the sculptor are so deeply burned into the image that I know she must have existed, and that the one who made this piece loved her.  
  
The thing is old, the style the super-realistic one you typically saw in the A.C. era and for a few years after it. Nowadays, every other artist's work is purely abstract, and the rest are all surrealists. It's easy to appreciate the piece just for that, but somehow I know it's more than even Hao could put into words. He doesn't love the piece itself- he loves the woman it's of.  
  
Which is impossible, I know, but clearly the truth. I can sense it, and my senses are never wrong. How else do you think I can dodge bullets?  
  
She is . . . this woman- no, just a girl, I realize a moment later- she is his heart of hearts. His other half, his soulmate.  
  
I turn the piece over to check for a signature, and the name there freezes the marrow in my bones six ways from Sunday.  
  
"Wufei Chang." The artist they called "The Dragon", one of the five famed Gundam pilots- the man who piloted the Shenlong Gundam in the long-ago wars that ended the age of the mobile suit forever. Except he hadn't BEEN a man, he'd been a boy. Probably Hao's age, now that I think of it; and maybe not even that.  
  
Other memories, other feelings, images even in a few cases- they all blind-rush me from this little statue, and I see flowers, and swords, and the deaths of many soldiers. And two words more precious than any other to this artist who wasn't quite an artist resound in my brain like staccato drumbeats against my soul.  
  
"Justice."  
  
And "Nataku."  
  
For this person, there was never anything else to life anyway.  
  
"She's beautiful," I say truthfully, and the smile in his eyes whispers of pride and love and the sort of joy that one can only find when they receive something a very long time in the coming.  
  
"I've seen this thing before," Yuu mutters, leaning over my shoulder. "It's a Chang, isn't it? Title's 'Meilan'- something like that."  
  
"Meiran," Hao corrects, reclaiming it. "It's also called Nataku in certain circles. It's one of his better-known pieces."  
  
"It's his wife, right?" Binary asks. "We're studying him in art history this term. I heard he was so mad in love with her that he went through like twelve of these before he decided he'd got her perfect. There's an exhibit with the final statue in it next week at the National Museum of the Arts," he adds slyly. Then he stops, eyes widening. "Shit, don't tell me THAT thing's- !"  
  
"Meiran number thirteen," Hao confirms, wrapping her back up. "The collection should be arriving at the museum any minute now . . . The curator's going to have a heart attack when they don't find it."  
  
"Christ," I mutter. "And what the fuck gave you the brilliant idea to walk off with THAT?" I already know, though. Love.  
  
"Nataku made me do it," he says cheekily.  
  
I think I ought to try this falling in love sometime; maybe see what it's like. It must be one hell of a trip if people are really willing to do such stupid things because of it.  
  
"Damn, Hao, you are one dead dog," Binary drawls. "They're gonna be scouring the city for that thing."  
  
"Well, I always wanted to see the Bahamas," Hao replies cheerfully.  
  
I laugh and pull my coat off the rack. Thankfully, it's undamaged- if a single bullet had hit my precious trenchcoat, I'd have gone out and tracked down all three of those idiots like the dogs they were and chopped off something a hell of a lot more important than a lousy hand. "Heard they're pretty nice this time of year," I say lightly, shrugging into it. "Oi, Yuu! We've got a case to be working on, you lazy bum- grab your jacket and let's get cracking!"  
  
"'Case?'" Yuu raises an eyebrow in that "you did not tell ME of any case, so I certainly do not recall agreeing to work on one" sort of way.  
  
"We're going to find the God of Death!" I crow, ignoring said look with the sort of superhuman ease that comes from years of practice. "And maybe if we're lucky, he'll be really hot!" Binary brightens upon hearing that.  
  
"You really ARE insane," Yuu mutters, though he gets his coat anyway. He doesn't put it on; instead slinging it over his uninjured shoulder. "Fine then. But first, the hospital so I don't have to run around on this wild goose chase with a slug in my arm, THEN we can find your damned 'god of death', alright?"  
  
"Can a god be damned?" I wonder aloud, genuinely curious.  
  
"Ask the Devil," Yuu retorts shortly, and sweeps out past me.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
. : review, or Shinigami's gonna get you! : . 


	5. The Complications of Sugar vs Spice

A/N: Hey, I have a request. Anybody know the URL of a good art site for GW? Good pictures inspire me to write, and lately I've needed said inspiration. So any art sites would be appreciated, be they yaoi, yuri, het, or whatever-centric.  
  
Quatre's POV. Why am I still writing that? ^_^;;  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"The Complications of Sugar vs. Spice"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There's this guy next door.  
  
You know the type- annoyingly self-righteous and with a thing for parking at the perfect angle to get your car stuck between his and a wall.  
  
So while I curse the name of Neal Torrin, aspiring young businessman (I swear, one of these days I'm gonna smite him sooo bad!), Yuu kicks the fender of said Neal's sexy little sports car. Meanwhile, I remove the small garden's worth of red roses from the front seat of MY sexy little sports car.  
  
The guy's not the brightest bulb in the batch, but damn it, you'd think he'd take the hint after we did this thirty-odd times.  
  
"He really likes you, doesn't he," Yuu observes in a slightly annoyed tone that usually foretells death.  
  
I growl in annoyance and dump the flowers in the nearest trashcan. "That's HIS problem, not mine," I grumble. "God, why's he always gotta do this to me?"  
  
"As has been mentioned, he like, LIKES you," Binary says with exaggerated sweetness, fluttering those false eyelashes for the at least the twelfth time of the day. Hao snickers in amusement, barely lifting his eyes from the porno he's unabashedly reading in public despite Ailin's disapproving scowl. Not that I have room to talk about doing naughty things, but I was never much of an exhibitionist. Voyeur, yes, but that's another story . . . well, actually, several other stories.  
  
But I digress. I don't want to be drooled over and bought off- the guy's hot and I'm superficial; if he'd just flat-out asked me for a date, I'd probably have said yes. Mind you, this would be if I knew nothing about what a prick he is.  
  
"Time to go!" I chirp, pushing all thoughts of Mr. Roses aside to get pissed over later in private with the vodka. "In the car, Yuu! And, Hao, be a dear and baby-sit the girls, won't you?" I add.  
  
"Sure, no problem," Hao replies lightly, craning his neck to better inspect the centerfold.  
  
"Who's a girl?!" Binary fumes, stomping a high-heeled hooker boot.  
  
"Down, bitch." Hao slaps him upside the head without averting his eyes from his magazine.  
  
"I'll give you 'bitch'!" Binary glowers at him. "Who's the one gettin' their rocks off a statue, eh?!"  
  
"Who's the one drooling after the old guys like a lovesick schoolgirl?" Hao counters mildly, flipping to the next page.  
  
"Hear that? Now we're old." Yuu gives me an amused look.  
  
"Hey, don't look at me!" I protest. "I am young and virile and besides, he's certainly not interested in getting into MY pants, else it would've already happened! Repeatedly," I add with a giggle.  
  
"QUATRE!" Ailin squeals, turning bright red.  
  
"Like you haven't heard dirtier stuff than that," I scoff, searching my jacket for my cigarettes.  
  
"You really are shameless, koi," Yuu says, laughing. I melt instantly and totally forget the coffin nails.  
  
He's wearing that smile. The real one, that he hardly ever uses, that makes him honestly look his age for once.  
  
"You're . . . happy," I whisper, and feel my eyes tear up in some screwed-up kind of glee.  
  
"Quatre?" Binary blinks. "Dude, are you crying?"  
  
"Oh, shut up," I mutter and quickly get in the car. "Are you coming or not?!" I demand, glaring at Yuu.  
  
He's still smiling "that way." "Hai, koibito," he affirms and slides in next to me. I swear to God, if he weren't the only friend I've had in this life, I'd kill him for making me worry about him this way.  
  
"Baka," I retort sourly.  
  
"Your pronunciation still sucks," Yuu tells me with a chuckle as I turn the key in the ignition.  
  
"Screw you," I answer glibly. He's still smiling. I'm so glad . . .  
  
God, when the fuck did I get this freaking sentimental? I'm sure that my soulmate would kill me if they caught me mooning over "Mr. I'm-So-Perfect" like this.  
  
. . . oh, great, now I'm thinking about soulmates again. Brilliant, Quatre. Abso-sodding-lutely brilliant. Let's depress ourselves. Maybe we can get drunk later too, since we hold our alcohol SO well.  
  
Still, though- he's been a good friend. Better than a nut like me deserves.  
  
And I'm really glad he's smiling.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"And ah, my love, how dear you are / I love it when we're in your car," the radio sings before Yuu kills it. Damn, I like that song.  
  
But I fucking LOVE my car. It's black and shiny and though I have no clue what make or model it is, I look fricking cool driving it, and Yuu looks like liquid sex sprawled in the passenger seat, which is all that really matters anyway.  
  
Mm, spontaneous erotic fantasy . . .  
  
Ahem.  
  
The damn inability to focus strikes again. Well, no, actually I AM quite focused- just on images of Yuu doing inappropriate things and wearing very little while doing it. Mm, scratch that- wearing nothing. Or maybe something leather and strappy.  
  
Yuu smacks me (not in the good way). "Eyes on the officer, baka koibito," he orders. "Stop daydreaming."  
  
"Yes, ma'am!" I salute him and narrowly avoid getting whapped (still not in the good way, mind).  
  
The cop sitting outside the car window sighs. "Can I just see your license?" he asks plaintively. Impatient bitch; I've only been stalling for fifteen minutes.  
  
Then his partner steps up, and Yuu looks a LOT less appetizing.  
  
"Arrest me. Now," I say automatically.  
  
Cop #2 (hereafter known as Da Sexy Bitch) gives me a dubious look. "Problems, gentlemen?" she asks dryly.  
  
"Lookit the pretty lady, Yuu," I say wistfully, giving her my biggest puppy eyes. Yuu cranes his neck to see her and turns bright red.  
  
"My God, you're gorgeous," he tells Da Sexy Bitch. Yes, he's gay, but this chick could make the gayest of the gay convert. Homophobic straight women would bang her. And speaking of banging . . .  
  
"Fuck me," I beg, grabbing her hands in mine. Da Sexy Bitch laughs.  
  
Her partner glowers at me. Actually, he's quite pretty too (mmm, another blonde), but nowhere NEAR as friendly as Da Sexy Bitch, so . . .  
  
"OW!" I yelp as Da Sexy Bitch's ticketbook smacks down on my wandering hand. Okay, NOT so friendly. Yuu snickers and I give him a pout. "Pity me, damn you," I whine.  
  
"Pity yourself," he scoffs.  
  
"Are you jealous, my Yuu?" I coo, completely switching gears. "Perhaps YOU might like to fuck?"  
  
"In front of the nice policemen?" he asks dryly, raising a dubious eyebrow.  
  
"Hasn't it always been one of your wildest fantasies to screw in front of a cop?" I ask innocently. "And look, there's TWO of 'em! Admittedly, I don't think they count as policeMEN . . . "  
  
Cop #1 twitches. "I hate traffic detail," he grumbles, massaging his forehead.  
  
"If you'd listen to the captain for once in your life, we'd have been promoted ages ago. Still, let's arrest them after all," Da Sexy Bitch suggests.  
  
"Please do!" I chirp brightly, holding out my wrists and grinning. "And which of you lovelies shall be frisking us today . . .?"  
  
"Shut up, koi," Yuu mutters, going scarlet as he glances at Da Sexy Bitch again.  
  
Da Sexy Bitch smirks and leans over (thank you, God!). "I recognize you now- you're that 'psychic detective.' What's your name . . . Quetra?"  
  
"Quatre," I correct with a faint sigh. And there goes my credibility- out the window with any and all chance of laying this girl. Third time this month, too (yes, we DO get pulled over a lot; why do you ask?).  
  
"Cool." She grins and flips her hair, eyelashes fluttering slightly.  
  
. . . odd, isn't this a popular flirting technique?  
  
Her partner sighs. "Raye," he begins through gritted teeth, "do not, I repeat, do NOT hit on the crazy man, okay?"  
  
"But he's cute," Da Sexy Bitch (hereafter known as Raye) pouts. "And I've never slept with a psychic detective before."  
  
I think I can die happy now.  
  
"Focus, please?" Yuu asks through gritted teeth, pinching my ear. Aw, is somebody jealous?  
  
Yeah, I wish.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
. : reviewing is good for the soul : . 


	6. The Scent of Forgotten Cologne

A/N: Finally I've gotten back to this poor story! *embraces it* I missed it so, but this chapter gave me SO much trouble. But, now . . . *sticks a fork in it* . . . it is DONE! Mwahaha!  
  
Still Mr. Q's POV. -^__^- Beware the evil of the transition chapter.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
"The Scent of Forgotten Cologne"  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Hao gives me a dubious look through the bars of the cell. "Do I even want to know, old man?" he asks, sighing faintly around the unlit cigarette in his mouth.  
  
"Shut up and post our bail before I have to make Yuu my bitch," I order, sticking my tongue out at him. "And I'm not old, you little perv. I am young and virile and could so outlast you."  
  
"What happened?" Ailin asks curiously, getting up on her tiptoes and hooking her elbows around the bars.  
  
"Officer Raye Thatcher's partner," Yuu retorts dryly from the bed. "He wasn't very happy when he caught her screwing around with Koibito behind the bar."  
  
"Feh, he's just jealous of my natural beauty and whorish boyfriend," I scoff.  
  
"Who's a whore?" Yuu demands, glaring at me.  
  
"Who said YOU were my boyfriend? Besides, you're the one who's reclining half-naked on the bed," I retort glibly.  
  
"Because you stole my SHIRT!" Yuu yells. "And I'm not 'reclining,' thank you very much! I have a bullet hole in my arm thanks to you two and your psycho antics!"  
  
I smile innocently. "Well, mine's in the wash," I tell him. "Did you want ME to waltz about half-naked? Personally, I don't think they could handle it."  
  
"It wouldn't BE in the wash if you hadn't gotten BLOOD all over it," Yuu snaps sourly.  
  
"You started the bar fight, not me," I huff in reply.  
  
"I was defending your honor," Yuu grumbles. Ailin tries very hard to keep a straight face. Hao just cracks up. "Oh, shut up," he mutters.  
  
"Still, it's a shame," I continue wistfully, taking a moment to reminisce about the underside of the counter and one of the better fifteen minutes of my life. "That Raye is a hot little bitch."  
  
"Shut up, slut," Yuu says sourly. "Ma, did you bring my checkbook?"  
  
"Yup," Hao replies, brandishing said booklet between his index and pointer fingers. He has very nice fingers. Long and thinly elegant, though it's hard to tell under the rings and leather bracers. He's so pierced up that it's not even funny, but he's got a classical beauty concealed underneath (and hiding very, very well).  
  
"Hey, where's the oh-so-scrumptious Binary?" I ask, suddenly realizing that the overall sexiness factor of our local punk kids is down by a significant amount.  
  
"She didn't wanna come when she found out we were hittin' the station," Hao explains, handing Yuu his checkbook and lighting his cigarette. "And all things considered, I don't wanna be here either, so if we can get this over with . . .?"  
  
"No worries," I assure him. "Yuu-chan! Quick, break down the bars!"  
  
"Perhaps we could wait for the key, koibito?" Yuu drawls dryly.  
  
"You're no fun," I mutter.  
  
"Moron," Hao snorts even as one of the officers unlocks the door. I breathe in deeply, vaguely recognizing a scent, and wind up with my face in Hao's chest.  
  
"That," I say with a content sigh as the others give me odd looks, "is the best cologne EVER."  
  
Yuu leans over slightly and sniffs also, wrinkling his nose. "Really?" he asks doubtfully. "But isn't it the kind that Mr. Roses uses?"  
  
"Do you have to ruin all of my orgasmic experiences?" I ask him sourly. "Besides," I add softly, "it reminds me of Lenore."  
  
"Oh God," Yuu says in exasperation. "Not this again."  
  
"Who's Lenore?" Hao asks in confusion, surreptitiously trying to wriggle away from me. Ailin looks dismayed.  
  
"You don't really mean that Hao is your Lenore, do you?" she asks softly. There probably isn't a person in my apartment building that doesn't know about my soulmate-obsession.  
  
"No, just that he smells SO good right now," I correct her, breathing in deeply again. And he does. He smells like leather and cigarettes and THAT cologne: the one that makes my fingers itch for the violin that I can't play.  
  
I love that cologne. I think, in one life, that my soulmate- my Lenore- might have worn it.  
  
I also think that Hao understands what we are talking about, even if he doesn't understand the words, because he doesn't push me away or try to escape again.  
  
"You didn't react like this earlier," he says dubiously.  
  
I want to explain, but I don't think I'm in any condition to. Only, I didn't remember before. There is so much in me right now that I don't think I ever really experienced, but I can't seem to get it all straightened out. At any given moment, anything could come to mind.  
  
He's shorter than he used to be. Or am I taller?  
  
But what do I mean by "used to be?"  
  
I can smell it still. That cologne, and the memory of grease and the sharp tang of metal and sex and rocket fuel; pressed in a cramped space and desperately wanting That Person and feeling so embarrassed/beautiful/loved, and oh God, I want him back . . .  
  
I say a name that never reaches my ears, and suddenly my heart hurts and everything goes black.  
  
The last thing I think of is green.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
*  
  
*  
  
. : this is the now : . 


	7. The Allocations of the Soul

A/N: *cheerful humming* I feel good today. Time to write some confusing angst. =^__^= I'm about to go on vacation, so I thought I'd post before we left.  
  
You know, I haven't watched this series since they stopped airing it on Cartoon Network (brief pause to mourn), but I still love the characters so much. After all, this is the series that taught me what shounen ai and yaoi WERE. XD I hardly ever read fanfiction for it, which is a shame, but I have a hard time finding good ones- part of the reason I don't write more for the fandom. By the time I got an account up here, my obsession with the series was mostly worn out, and nothing I'd written beforehand was really worth posting. It's just hard for me to think of ideas that haven't been done already, since GW always seemed to be such a varied fandom. *sighs*  
  
*  
  
*  
  
"The Allocations of the Soul"  
  
*  
  
*  
  
A memory . . . a nightmare!  
  
Daddy don't die Ilea please don't leave me I've only just met you I want you to stay with me I know so little about you but you're my family I love you how dare you die for me I'm not WORTH it you're the good one I'm a murderer!  
  
Don't die don't die I didn't mean to hurt you I wasn't aiming at you why did you get in the way don't leave me don't you KNOW me you said you'd never forget me again!  
  
And that girl . . .  
  
Give him BACK, give him BACK, he's fucking MINE!  
  
He's supposed to be mine . . .  
  
His face, his voice, his hands and lips and touch and taste and blood, blood, MY blood, am I dying I don't want to leave him please don't let me leave him my heart hurts too much is it the real heart or is it the meat that shares its name I want him back I want him back I don't want to leave him!  
  
He's supposed to be mine . . .  
  
Forever.  
  
My fingers are itching for my violin.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
* ~ *  
  
*  
  
*  
  
I wake up screaming the name of a person I've never known, and when I can see straight again, Binary smirks at me from across the room.  
  
"Good dream?" he asks with a giggle, closing the bottle of nail polish in his hands. "You've been up here all afternoon- the others said that you passed out in Hao's arms at the police station," he explains, blowing on his nails.  
  
I call him something- another name I don't recognize- but I can't quite hear myself.  
  
Binary pales and drops the bottle, and then he SCREAMS.  
  
The door bangs open behind me (where ARE we, anyway?) and Yuu bursts in with his gun drawn and sweeping the room; then he blinks and gives Binary a strange look.  
  
"What happened?" Trust Yuu to come in guns blazing and not worrying about the details until he's sure nothing important has recently exploded.  
  
"Nothing!" Binary shrieks, snatching the alarm clock off the nightstand and throwing it at Yuu. He blocks it with the door and gives me a questioning look.  
  
"Don't look at me," I say with a shrug, holding my hands up. "I didn't even touch him!"  
  
"Yeah right," Yuu says dryly. "God, you're both such whores. Just keep it down and try not to wake Ailin and Hao, would you?"  
  
"I'm not a whore," Binary says defensively, crossing his fishnet stockings and red leather boots.  
  
"Wake them?" I ask blankly. "What time is it?"  
  
"Only about six, but Hao passed out on the couch as soon as we got back and Ailin fell asleep in the kitchen," Yuu reports. "You know how she is- if you don't give her something to do, she'll go comatose on you at the drop of a hat. As for Hao . . . well, I get the impression he's been running around a lot lately."  
  
"Yeah," Binary agrees with a slight nod as he inspects his bright red nail polish (really not his color- I'd try purple if I was him). "He was asleep the whole time you guys were gone. Got really pissed when we woke him up to bail you out, too," he adds with a smug snicker.  
  
"He would," Yuu mutters. "But whatever- just keep it down, okay?"  
  
"We weren't DOING anything!" I yell after him as he shuts the door. "Believe me, I wish we HAD been!"  
  
"I don't like blondes anyway," Binary grumbles. "Too airheaded."  
  
Oh, look who's talking.  
  
"Gee, thanks: feel free to start insulting my manhood while you're at it," I tell him sourly. "Since you're having SO much fun at my expense and all."  
  
"Do you remember the day we met?" Binary asks me, his usually light voice suddenly uncomfortably calm. "When I flipped out on you?"  
  
"Vaguely," I reply flatly. "Seeing as it was just yesterday and all."  
  
"Wanna know why?" He gives me the most serious look I've seen on his face all day, and I forgo the usual million other things I'm thinking about at any given moment to give him my full attention- something I hardly ever need to do.  
  
But he's Binary, and I probably trust him more than I should.  
  
"Shoot," I say with a classically "me" grin: wide and insincere, but at least an attempt at friendliness.  
  
Binary gives me a wan smile of his own, and I see it in his eyes. He's lonely too- not just a shallow loneliness, but the deep kind, that scars the heart and spans lifetimes. Like I am, like Yuu is, like Hao was before he got his sticky fingers on that little statue of his.  
  
He is also looking for his soulmate.  
  
"Know what a peacock is?" Binary asks, kicking his legs slightly and not quite looking at me.  
  
"'A male peafowl with a crested head and large, fan-shaped tail; known for its elaborate and somewhat gaudy plumage,'" I recite obediently. "They use the tails to get laid," I add with a grin.  
  
Binary gives me a dubious look. "You WOULD know that." I grant him a beguiling smile in return. "There's another definition," he tells me after a brief pause to roll his eyes. "You might know it too."  
  
"I'll assume you mean the archaic," I reply promptly. "Peacocks were effeminate male prostitutes who used to get dressed up like women and taken out and around by gay men."  
  
"Yeah." Binary smiles mirthlessly. "That was me."  
  
Honestly? I'm not surprised. But I get the feeling that this isn't the usual spill-your-guts affair. Something bad is about to come out of his mouth.  
  
Something really, really bad.  
  
"There was . . . this guy," Binary says slowly. "He liked me. He liked me a LOT. And he wasn't a very nice guy. But he paid extra, so I let him have me, even though I knew he was bad news. And then he stopped asking . . . and I ran away in the end . . . But he came back today, while the others were out. I don't even know how he found me. But what you called me when you woke up- that was what I used to go by, when I was around him."  
  
He looks up at me, and for the first time, I actually understand that he's just a kid, even under the leather and the make-up and the flirting- and even though I called him seventeen, to be honest he's probably at least two years younger. And when he wears that expression, and casts off the bravado . . .  
  
I can feel it in my heart. He hurts. He thinks I'll hate him, laugh at him, use him, throw him away. But he's in so much pain, and so afraid, and he needs someone to understand.  
  
I remember, when I fainted at the scent of Hao's cologne . . . my heart hurt then. And I was thinking of that cheap green telephone on my desk, and the green in . . . somebody's eyes while I fell. There was the kind green, and then another, icier one- hateful and cruel and wanting bad things.  
  
"Did he do anything to you?" I ask.  
  
Binary shakes his head. "I hit him with the phone, then Yuu and Hao dragged you into the lobby and he left before they could see him," he explains quietly. "He's a coward, but . . . he's stronger than I am," he adds with a faint shudder. "I can't stop him from doing what he wants to . . . and he has the coldest eyes."  
  
And Yuu tells me that there's no such thing as a psychic.  
  
"The worst part is, he always leaves the money," Binary adds after a moment, voice trembling.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better," I tell him, "I really DO know exactly how you feel."  
  
"How can you?!" he yells back, jumping to his feet and glaring at me. I can see repressed tears in his eyes. "How can you POSSIBLY- ?!"  
  
I grab him and yank him down until our foreheads are pressed together.  
  
"The first time I ever had sex," I begin slowly as I let my . . . soul, I guess you'd call it- as I let my soul leak into the cracks of his, "I was fifteen. It felt so good, so fantastic, that I couldn't understand how just one person could feel like that. And I was so happy, because I loved him so much, and I thought we'd be together forever."  
  
"What happened?" Binary asks, slightly breathless as my feelings, my memories wash over him.  
  
"I died," I reply bluntly, releasing him. "And the next time I was born, I couldn't find him, and it hurt SO bad."  
  
" . . . you can really remember your past lives?" he asks a little doubtfully. Not doubting reincarnation, though, just that I can recall what is supposed to be forgotten.  
  
"Yes," I answer with a quick nod. "It is . . ." For a moment I fumble for words, and then, slowly, feel a phrase enter my mind. "It is the Soul of Outer Space," I say, feeling my lips curve in an instinctive smile. "That is my ability. And it follows me through my lives, so I cannot forget . . . "  
  
"Do you remember everything?" His eyes are large and dark and needy- like he wants something to be confirmed or denied. "Like, when you're dreaming?"  
  
"Sometimes," I reply with a slight shrug. "Sometimes not. Usually, it's just a memory I've always had, but lately they've been coming to me more often. I was thinking of one when I passed out."  
  
"What was it?" Binary quizzes.  
  
I close my eyes. "That first time," I say softly, unable to prevent the nostalgic peace that washes over me. "It was somewhere metallic . . . in a car, I think, or a truck . . .? I don't really remember- it's much too vague."  
  
"The way I felt . . . when you described it . . . " Binary puts a hand to his forehead, giving me a questioning look.  
  
"Those were my happy memories," I explain simply. "Of the way sex feels with the person that you love the most."  
  
"Who do you love the most?" he asks. Blunt little bastard, but no surprise there.  
  
I want to tell him that I'm not sure, but a name that I can't hear crosses my lips anyway.  
  
He looks surprised. "Oh. Really?"  
  
*  
  
*  
  
* tbc . . . *  
  
*  
  
*  
  
. : who is it that you love? : . 


End file.
